Monaco glittered beneath the late‑afternoon sun, all polished yachts and mirrored windows and people who pretended to care about everything while caring about nothing at all. Sienna had once been dazzled by it — the glamour, the speed, the illusion of importance. Now it felt like a place she had outgrown without meaning to.
Word of her departure had spread quickly, the way everything did in this city. But the reaction was predictable: a few raised brows, a handful of speculative whispers, a couple of socialites murmuring, *“She’ll be back. They always come back.”* To Monaco, she was a temporary curiosity. To Luca, she was not.
He stood beside her on the balcony of his penthouse, the breeze lifting the hem of her shirt as she leaned against the railing. The Mediterranean stretched endless
